Healing Hands
by LadyNightRunner
Summary: Not every mission goes as planned. Not every Turk comes back unscathed. And someone has to take care of injured Turks when they can't do it themselves. Rude's going to have his hands full.


This is a VERY late art trade for EnideDear, in which she requested Reno and Rude sweetness while Reno has been hurt in some way. I took 'Reno hurt' to mean 'beat the ever loving snot out of him, then slap an infection or three on as well and see how he does', then added some hallucinations for fun. I gotta say, I had fun with this.

* * *

><p>Reno slouched up the stairs to the Turk offices, leaving a trail of watery blood behind him. His mag-rod hung loosely from a swollen wrist, the tip dragging over each and every step with a rough scraping sound. His head was down, shoulders sagging, and he was soaking wet, his suit stained with blood and grime.<p>

The current offices the Turks used, while the main floor for their use was under construction, had a block of cubicles to one side, Tseng and Reno's personal offices in opposite corners, and a common area with several couches more or less in the center of the room. Reno made for the couches instead of his office, slowly collapsing onto them with a strained groan of pain.

Tseng padded out of his office, having seen Reno on the way in. he carried a first-aid kit in one hand, ready to patch his second in command up and shoo him into his office for a little rest and paperwork.

Reno opened one eye to look at Tseng when the man approached. The other eye was swollen nearly shut, the skin around it bruised to a dark, mottled purple. His lip was split, chin streaked with watered-down blood from it and from the sluggish drip from his nose. "Hey, boss," he whispered, lisping around the swollen damage done to his lip.

"Mission didn't go well?" Tseng asked lightly, putting the first aid kit down on the floor and opening it.

"Fuck no, but I finished it anyway." Reno gave his hand a little shake, wincing as the strap for his rod slid over his swollen wrist, and let the weapon fall to the floor.

"Good. Hold still, let me see." Tseng leaned over Reno, long fingers sliding under Reno's chin and gently turning his head from side to side, examining the damage, and made a soft, concerned sound when he found a trickle of blood seeping from under Reno's hair. He sifted through Reno's hair as carefully as he could manage and found a bloody knot just a little to the left of the exact center of the back of his head. A light touch made Reno wince. "What did you get hit with?"

"The floor," Reno grunted. "No, mebbe the wall. Don't remember. Kind of busy remembering other shit, like which one had the gun."

Tseng sighed and turned to Reno's hands, lifting the one with the swollen wrist. As he lifted it, Reno whimpered. "Does it hurt when I lift this?"

"Yeah."

"Where does it hurt?"

"Shoulder an' somewhere in the bicep."

Tseng gently laid Reno's hand back in his lap and reached for his suit coat. "This needs to come off. Just hold still and I'll feed your arm through with as little movement as possible."

Reno nodded, gritting his teeth as Tseng did exactly as promised, managing to pull the coat off without lifting Reno's injured arm more than a few inches. The shirt beneath the coat was just as messy as the coat itself, which made Tseng pause, reevaluating Reno's condition. He had assumed that most of the blood belonged to other people, but if it was _under_ the coat…it probably wasn't.

"Shirt's coming off as well. Do you want me to try and salvage it?"

"Just cut the damn thing off."

Tseng nodded and pulled a knife from his boot. A few quick, clean cuts had the sleeve of the shirt lying on the floor with Reno's coat, and Tseng was free to examine the redhead's bicep. It was swollen and tender, as evidenced by Reno flinching when he touched it, and ever so slightly misshapen. Tseng shook his head and moved up to Reno's shoulder. What was wrong there was obvious.

"You've partially dislocated this shoulder and probably fractured your humerus," he said quietly. "Do you want me to push the joint back in?"

Reno growled at him, shifted his weight, and slammed his injured shoulder into the back of the couch. Tseng just barely heard a grisly popping sound over Reno's cry of pain.

"That was stupid," he remarked.

"Better t' get it over with."

"And possibly do serious damage to your shoulder in the process." Still, the joint was back in place, which was a slight improvement. "Must you always try to do things before I can tell you to?"

Reno chuckled, then sucked in a sudden breath and clutched at his side. "_Fuck_," he hissed, fingers curling into his shirt and clutching at it to relieve some of the obvious pain he was feeling.

"Reno?"

"Broken ribs," he gasped. "Laughed. Fucking…fuck…ahgod, that hurts."

Tseng cut away the rest of Reno's shirt, finding that yes, there was a slightly sunken spot in his ribs that suggested breakage. More worrying, however, was on the other side, where a deep, ragged tear leaked blood down his waist, with smaller cuts adding to the flow. "What happened?" he asked, not touching the wounds.

"Lotta knives."

"You were better armed, Reno, why-"

"Raining fuckin' _buckets_. Couldn't use the rod without shocking myself. Used it for a club instead and knifed 'em when I got the chance."

"And your gun?"

"Tore it offa me."

"And you didn't _retrieve _it?"

"_You_ take your fucking gun back when there's a knife in your gut," Reno hissed. "I survived, didn't I?" He made to get up, clearly frustrated with Tseng, but cried out softly before he could get completely vertical and fell back.

"Reno? Reno, what is it?"

"_Hurts_," Reno whispered. "Feel sick."

Tseng stroked his hair and reached into his pocket for his phone with the other hand. "Just close your eyes," he said gently. "I'm calling medical."

/-

Reno was returned to his colleagues in a wheelchair, drugged up to his eyeballs and smiling dreamily at anyone who got too close. In the three days since he had returned from his assignment, the blood stains on the floor and couch had been cleaned, the first aid kit had been returned to it's rightful location, and the remaining three Class A Turks who shared the office had come to a quiet conclusion concerning his care.

"Three broken ribs," Tseng had said quietly, reading off a printout supplied by the doctor overseeing Reno's care. "Another five fractured, all on the right side of the body. Internal bruising. Internal bleeding, minor. Deep stab wound to the left side, resulting in nicks and minor damage to his liver and kidney. Partially dislocated shoulder, further damaged from improperly forcing it back into the socket. Severely sprained wrist. Three broken fingers on the same hand. Fractured humerus- same arm as the dislocation, sprain, and broken fingers. Concussion and minor skull fracture resulting in bleeding and bruising. Fractured ankle and several bones of the foot, aggravated by being walked on. Stab wounds not extending deep enough to do extensive damage, numbering eleven, to the left side, legs, right arm, and back. Inhalation of assorted debris and chemicals, resulting in minor respiratory infection." He sighed. "Serious wounds treated with low-level Materia and high-level drugs, but according to Reno's records, he refuses complete healings for religious reasons and will need a partner to care for him during the first two to three weeks of his recovery, as he will be mostly unable to tend to himself. It's best if he has a single caretaker rather than being handed around like a pet, to avoid complication. Volunteers?"

Rude and Elena looked at each other, then both put their hands up. Tseng smiled faintly.

"Rude. You will have the distinct pleasure of minding our resident blockhead. He'll be released tomorrow afternoon. Call Elena if you need help with him."

And so it was that Rude carefully loaded his armful of redhead into the back seat of his car and drove home early on a Thursday afternoon. Reno fell asleep on the way and snored for the last ten minutes of the drive.

/

Once the drugs Reno had been given at the hospital wore off- which was around midnight that night- he was expected to be in considerable pain until the prescription medication Rude had picked up for him had time to work. Rude knew this, but had not been expecting to wake up in the middle of the night to hear Reno crying in the spare room, sobbing hoarsely in the darkness.

Rude crawled out of bed and located his friend sitting up, propped up against the wall in the room that had been turned into Reno's temporary home, clutching his midsection. A few soft questions were all it took for Rude to determine that while he was conscious enough to respond to the pain, he wasn't aware enough to tell Rude what was hurting him, so Rude carefully dosed him with everything- thankful that the doctor had made sure the medications wouldn't react badly to each other. If he hadn't, Rude might have been forced to chose which hurts Reno would just have to live with and which he would actually treat. Reno choked on the pills he was given, whimpered, then slumped back against the wall as his exhausted body responded almost at once to the sedative Rude had fed him.

Rude sighed in relief, kissed Reno's forehead, and returned to his own bed.

/

It took another day and a half for Reno to be more or less himself as the last of the drugs wore off. He had the extreme misfortune to come to his senses while Rude was moving him from the bed to the couch in order to remake the bed; Reno's unbroken foot had done a damn good job of kicking the blankets all to hell and most of them were no longer actually on the bed. He twitched, Rude nearly dropped him, and in the frantic grab to keep Reno from hitting the floor, Rude squeezed Reno a little too hard.

Reno screeched and nearly climbed over Rude's head in an effort to get away from him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded when Rude had managed to deposit him on the couch as gently as possible. He tried to curl in on himself, gave a soft cry, and lay back with a wince.

"Me? You're the one who tried to jump out of my arms."

"Why are you carrying me at all, yo?" Reno coughed, softly at first, then harder, clutching at his chest as if that would ease the pain of jostling his injuries. "How did I get here?"

"Because you made a mess of the bed and I'd intended to remake it. Tseng assigned me as your caretaker until you're fit to be on your own, since the combination of injuries you sustained on assignment and the medication you're on make it virtually impossible for you to be on your own at the moment. And before you ask, it's been almost five days since you got back from that assignment."

Reno stared at Rude for a minute, then looked down at himself. His entire arm was incased in a cast, shoulder to fingers and extending over the broken fingers as well, then braced across his back and partially secured to his middle, to avoid moving it too much. His ankle and foot were also in a cast. He had bandages everywhere. And he was wearing pajamas. "Oh," he said at last. "Shit. What's the verdict?"

Rude gave Reno the list of injuries, told him about the medications he was supposed to be taking, and relayed a number of orders from Tseng and Rufus. Reno sulked about it, but allowed Rude to go off to deal with the bed while he tried to page through a magazine. He was asleep before Rude returned.

/-

Several days passed. Reno slept through most of them, as anyone drugged up to their eyeballs ought to do. When he was awake, he complained. Loudly, and sometimes clearly enough for Rude to understand him. He ate little, drank a lot- when Rude supplied the right sport drinks and juices, which he was infernally picky about- and flipped through Rude's collection of magazines.

On the fifth day, Reno didn't want to be taken out of his bed. He whimpered when Rude tried to pick him up, wriggling as much as his broken ribs would allow.

"You can't stay in here all day," Rude pointed out.

"Go away."

"Reno, stop it. You're acting like a five year old."

"I don't feel good. I can stay in bed if I want."

"You're not going to feel good for weeks. You have to get used to that."

Reno threw a pillow at Rude, who let it smack him in the face and fall to the floor because he knew it would help appease Reno's need to lash out.

"I feel _sick_, dumbass," he snapped. "Leave me alone so I can go back to sleep."

Rude frowned and approached the bed, reaching out to press one big hand to Reno's forehead. Reno grimaced but let him do it. The skin was just a little too hot under his hand. "You've got a fever."

"Whoop de fuckin' doo," Reno muttered.

"I'm going to call the doctor," Rude sighed. "You stay put and sulk some more."

"I am not _sulking_. And I don't need a doctor."

"You're being held together by casts, staples, and stitches, Reno. If you have a fever then something is _wrong_. And I'm not qualified to tell you what."

Reno pitched a fit while they waited for the doctor. He behaved while the doctor looked him over, which for Reno meant that he said plenty of crude, rude, and sarcastic things but allowed the man to do his job. He did, however, screech like a scalded cat and try to turn enough to club the doctor with his cast when the incisions in his side were checked over.

"FUCK! What the hell are you doing to me?"

"You have an infection," the doctor said simply. "This incision isn't healing as it should, the area around it is swollen and red, there is evidence of pus on your bandages, and all symptoms point to a general infection."

"Well do something about it and stop fuckin' poking me."

"I intend to." He fetched a prescription pad out of his bag and laid it on the nightstand, then took a thermometer and several other tools out as well and approached Reno with them. "But before I do that, I need a better idea of what sort of infection you have."

/-

Reno wound up with a low-dosage antibiotic and was forced to perch precariously on the edge of the bathtub while Rude cleaned his wounds, sluicing them with a bottle of antibacterial rinse the doctor had left with them, drying them carefully with sterile gauze, and rebandaging them as delicately as you please. Once he was back in bed, Reno sulked and refused to talk to Rude.

/-

Two days later, Rude shuffled into the bedroom to find Reno lying on his stomach. Sort of. He'd managed to pile pillows up and then lie on them so his ribs had soft support and his hips were off the bed, and his stomach was bare, shirt rucked up over his bandages, separated from the bed by several inches of air. His face was pushed into another pillow and, more worryingly, his skin gleamed with sweat.

"Reno?" Rude asked softly.

"Fucking doctor doesn't know _shit_," Reno hissed. His voice was hoarse.

"What do you meant?"

"Meds are supposed to make the infection go away. 'stead I feel worse."

"What's bothering you?" Rude approached the bed carefully; Reno was lying on the pillows, so anything else he might throw would be much more solid.

"Stomach," Reno grunted. "Head. Joints. Throat."

Rude checked under the bandages on Reno's side, careful to avoid pulling too hard on the tape. The wounds beneath were significantly less red and swollen than they had been two days before, and there was no pus on the white gauze. Rude sighed.

"I'm calling the doctor."

"Fuck that. Get me a new one."

"Reno, you _know_-"

"I want a different doctor," Reno growled.

It was easier to just do what Reno wanted and call another doctor. Who took a lot longer to get there than Rude liked, since he had to pick up files and records from the other doctor and review them so he knew what he was dealing with. Rude wished that the doctor who usually served the Turks, Dr. Ackinson, wasn't out dealing with a family death. He would have been able to handle Reno so much better than these others.

By the time the doctor arrived, Reno had begun to complain of a sour stomach, and he was shivering. Rude tucked him back under the blankets and stroked his damp hair until he was summoned by the doorbell, leaving Reno to grumble and curse in the dim bedroom.

"Flu," the doctor informed Rude some thirty minutes later, scribbling on a prescription pad and handing the torn off slip to him. "Not much you can do, I'm afraid, but keeping him warm and hydrated will do him a world of good."

"He won't eat unless he wants to," Rude sighed, checking the slip and finding two prescriptions on it, each with a number of notations he couldn't read beneath. "With the broken bones it's almost impossible for me to force him."

"Find a way. In his condition, flu is dangerous. Food, liquids, rest, and warmth. No arguments."

Rude agreed and promised to follow the instructions to the letter. Assuming he could bully Reno into letting him.

/-

The bullying didn't work out too well. Rude managed to get a glass of juice and half a cheese sandwich into Reno before the redhead stopped accepting what was offered to him. It took bribes (in the form of Reno's favorite chocolate and peanut butter balls, which Rude had stockpiled for just such a purpose) to get medication into him. More bribes were required around dinner time, and even then, Reno refused most of the dinner Rude had made, eating only plain noodles, picking the shrimp out to eat separately after wiping the sauce off of them, and turning away the juice. Rude was ready to smother him with a pillow by the time he fell asleep that night.

Sometime in the wee hours of the night, Reno dragged himself out of bed and limped down the hallway to Rude's bedroom. Rude found out about this when Reno stumbled over the edge of the fur rug he kept beside the bed and fell, hitting the wall and then the floor with a cry that jerked Rude out of a dead sleep and had him out of bed with a gun in his hand before he realized it was just Reno.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, shoving the gun back into the nightstand and hurrying to Reno's side. The redhead was sprawled awkwardly, unable to pick himself up because the arm on the side away from the wall was the one in a cast and his legs were caught under him. Rude sorted him out as gently as he could, and was surprised when the skinny, over-heated body curled against him, the long fingers of Reno's unbroken hand fisting in his t-shirt.

"Can't sleep," Reno whispered hoarsely. "Wanna be in here." Rude started to lift him into a better position, and he winced. "_Hurts_." He was burning hot to the touch, skin tacky with sweat, and shivering steadily.

Rude had put Reno in the guest bedroom for a reason. Several reasons, in fact. Reasons like how much damage he could do to Reno if he rolled over onto him before his ribs had set. Reasons like how he had been known to jerk and kick in his sleep, and how Reno was practically one big bruise with cuts in him for good measure. But one look at the pale, sharp face and the huge, miserable blue eyes and Rude was lost. He sighed and lifted Reno carefully, carrying him over to the big bed and laying him down in the warm dip in the bed where he had been; it was Reno's favorite spot no matter where they were bedding down for the night, and he knew Reno would fuss until he was allowed to lie there anyway.

"You know I shouldn't let you do this," Rude grumbled, wriggling under the blankets. Reno squirmed awkwardly over to him and lay his head on his chest, , eyes closing.

"But you're gonna let me, right?"

"Just shut up and go to sleep."

/-

Reno woke Rude up at 4am by belching in his ear. Having grown used to this and knowing what it meant after helping Reno through withdrawal (twice), too many hangovers to count, and several cases of food poisoning and stomach flu, Rude didn't even get up. He grabbed the little wastebasket from under his nightstand and shoved it in the general direction of Reno's face. The sound of retching and vomit falling into the trashcan told him he'd gotten it right. Yawning, he lay still in the dark and waited until Reno stopped gagging. There was a moment of silence, a wet belch, another retch, and Reno pushed the trashcan away. Rude put it back and rolled onto his back once more. Reno lay down on him, panting raggedly.

"This fuckin' _sucks_."

"Mmmhm."

/-

'This fuckin' sucks' became Reno's opinion of just about everything for the next few days. His fever held steady, his stomach did not, and he developed a rattling cough to go with it. He managed to tear several stitches after a coughing-fit-turned-projectile vomiting episode and another bout of midnight puking blacked his undamaged eye. Coughing and throwing up, the two activities he participated regularly in, made his healing ribs ache and jostled his shoulder.

Rude snuck a Heal potion into his blueberry juice. That solved the problem with his ribs, at least, and helped with the other broken bones.

At the two-week mark, Reno was still sick. His infection had cleared up and the incisions in his side were closed, save for the one he had torn. His other assorted bruises and scrapes were gone, though the internal bruising was still present. One black eye had healed, the new one was starting to go that horrible greenish yellow of a healing bruise, he no longer got dizzy every time he turned his head, and he had finished the antibiotics for both the respiratory infection and the infected wound.

Even better, Dr. Ackinson was back in town. Rude called him at once and scheduled a house call. He did _not_ tell Reno about it.

The morning of the visit, Reno could be found lying on his side on the couch, clutching a hot rice bag to his stomach and groaning. Rude was wisely staying out of the way, but not keeping too far from the couch in case Reno tried to get up and fell. Again. It had happened repeatedly, and Rude had a lot of bruises from last-minute dives to catch him before he rebroke anything.

Dr. Ackinson arrived ten minutes early. He was a tall, rail-thin man with no tolerance for shenanigans, endless patience, a short ponytail of honey-colored curls, and a secret stash of treats that could coax the orneriest Turk into letting him do his job. He unpacked his bag and skimmed over Reno's current medical records while Reno himself pitched a fit about Rude calling a doctor without telling him. Then he padded into the living room like he owned it and prepared to deal with one of his most difficult patients.

"Why is it every time I see you, there's vomit involved?" Ackinson asked, perched on Rude's desk chair, ratcheted down to the lowest setting and rolled into the living room.

"Fuck off," Reno hissed furiously. "I don't need another doctor."

"Reno, I am your _only_ doctor. Any other medical practitioner is the equivalent of a cheap tart and I'm insulted that you would stoop so low as to see one of them. Open up." He didn't wait for Reno to reply and popped a thermometer into the redhead's mouth. While Reno scowled at him, he strapped a blood pressure cuff onto Reno's bare arm and began to inflate it, long fingers over Reno's thin wrist. "Calm down and breathe, you silly thing. I'm not going to do anything to you unless it's necessary."

Reno growled but didn't spit the thermometer out. He was mostly quiet while Ackinson performed the necessary niceties, checking all the little details that no one but a doctor really cared about. He waited until that part was over, then leaned over and threw up into the trashcan Rude had put out for him.

Ackinson watched silently, even reaching out to support Reno by his stable shoulder. When he'd finished, he gently pushed the redhead back onto the couch and toed the receptacle out of the way. "The vomiting hasn't eased at all, I see. Has anything helped you deal with it?"

"Rude makes a pretty good ginger tea."

"But no medication?"

"Can't take the shit the last doctor gave me."

"Why not?"

"I break out."

Ackinson checked the records and blinked.

"He prescribed medication to which you are allergic. Which any idiot with access to your file would have known."

"Yeah."

"I'll be having a word with this 'doctor'. And I may take my boyfriend with me." Jerry, Dr. Ackinson's life partner, was a hulking ex-football player and a lawyer who specialized in malpractice suits. They were a strange match.

"You do that. And the last fucker."

"What did he do?"

"Didn't catch this 'til I was 103 and about to hurl. An' then it was that other jackass who figured it out."

"Given that you had a cough because of chemical inhalation and a fever from an infected wound, Reno, his mistake is understandable. Anyone who isn't me and doesn't know all of your tells would have assumed the cause of your problems was the initial damage you sustained and would never think of illness. Besides, most people don't have luck that bad. Rinse." He shoved a water bottle at Reno, who growled but rinsed, then spat and gagged.

"What is that shit?"

"Mint and cucumber water. Freshening and deodorizing. Say ah."

"Fuck you, doc."

Ackinson smiled sweetly and reached into his pocket, then brandished a stick of soft caramel with pine nuts in it. Reno whimpered. "Say ah, Red."

Reno said ah. He told Ackinson what hurt and how it hurt, told him how the nausea came on before he puked, told him everything he needed to know and then some, all to the tune of three caramels, several pieces of peanut butter chocolate swirl fudge, and a single milk candy that Reno sucked on while Ackinson checked on the healing of his broken bones. He was quiet and complacent and falling asleep when Ackinson cleared his throat, got up, and nodded at the kitchen. Rude got up and followed him.

"Definitely flu," he murmured, putting things back in his bag. "Take care of yourself, it'll knock you on your ass just like him."

"I know."

"Mmhm. Bones are healing well. Keep spiking his drinks." Rude choked on his own spit. Ackinson smiled. "Didn't think I could tell, hmm?"

"He'll kill me if he finds out."

"Heal potions aren't Materia based and they aren't against his religion. He doesn't like them because he took one on an empty stomach before you joined the force and regretted it. I got to deal with him then, too. Nothing like convincing a kid that the potion he took to make himself feel better isn't _supposed_ to give him the runs from hell, but that's what happens when you drink them without a chaser."

"How much did it cost you?"

"Everything I had on me and a promise of ice cream." The thermometer went into a protective case. "What he needs is a proper healing. Barring that, there's an antiviral I can give you, but I'll warn you…it will play merry hell with his system."

"Meaning?"

"Everything is going to go haywire. If he doesn't hallucinate, you'll be lucky. His emotions will be even more out of whack than they already are and he's going to get splitting headaches while he's on it. But it should clear his system in three days. Four, tops. Or I can give you a low-dosage one and a few accessory medications and you can inch him through recovery. Your call."

"If you were going to pick?"

"I'm not the one who'll have to deal with him bursting into tears over his split ends or giggling at the pretty pink chocobo all over your ceiling, so I'd pick the high-dosage. In the long run, it will be better for him; his body can't heal up if it's busy taking care of other problems. Gotta get the housekeeping taken care of before doing repairs. Illogical, but a fact of life."

"I'll do that, then."

"You're sure?" Rude nodded. "Alright. I'll go back in there and shoot him up before he can argue with me. Your job is going to be keeping him from hurting himself and making sure he eats. Expect the first couple of days to be ugly. He will still vomit and cough. That will fade on the third day, but what you need to watch for is his fever. It will spike before it breaks, and when it does, he's done. Bug's gone. Give him twelve hours to recover and give me a status report. If he still seems sick, then something else is wrong and he'll need to be brought into my office. Is that clear?"

Reno threw a hoarse screaming fit when he had to submit to two shots of antiviral. Ackinson silenced him with another milk candy and left a small supply of them with Rude, to ease his sore throat. The fact that they were Reno's favorite hard candy and were only available in Wutai and select fancy import stores made them all the more valuable as bribes. Reno fell asleep on the couch and Rude covered him with a blanket, enjoying the quiet while he still had it. According to Ackinson, the shots would take three to five hours to kick in, and there would be no gradual build-up to the effects it would have. Those three to five hours of complete radio silence were the only reprieve Reno would be getting.

/-

Four and a half hours later, Reno woke up, picked himself carefully off the couch, and shuffled into the bedroom. Rude let him, having already learned that when Reno could stand and not sway, he was okay to move slowly around the apartment. Rude remained in his armchair, reading, until he heard coughing. That was his cue.

Expecting the usual violent, painful coughing fit, Rude stopped dead in the doorway when he found Reno. The lean redhead was crammed into the corner between Rude's dresser and the wall, knees drawn up close to his body, separated from his belly by the pillow he was clutching. His eyes were wet and red rimmed, cheeks streaked with moisture, and as Rude watched, his shoulders hitched in a wet sob that had a string of unsteady coughs trailing after it.

Rude almost tripped over himself trying to get to Reno a little faster.

"What is it?" he asked, big hands checking casts and bandages almost blindly, searching for the cause of the tears. Reno had never been afraid to cry, but when he wasn't doing it as an act- which was always obvious to anyone who knew him, even if it always got him what he wanted anyway- it meant something was very wrong. He was sick. He was hurting. He was upset. Something had happened. And Rude needed to know what it was.

Reno blubbered and threw the pillow at him. When Rude tried to help him up, he spat curses and struggled until Rude backed off.

It took twenty minutes and a lot of gentle coaxing before Reno told Rude- with complete seriousness- that there was a pair of Midgar Zolom over by the window. Reno hated snakes. Rude was forced to fight invisible, miniaturized Zolom while Reno hollered directions and curses at him from the other side of the room, until finally, he killed the visions and was allowed to scoop Reno up and tuck him into bed. Reno passed out within minutes and Rude went to make dinner.

/-

Over the course of the next twenty-four hours, Reno had another three hysterical breakdowns over things he was seeing in the apartment. He also threw a violent fit when he thought he saw an ex-girlfriend lounging on Rude's bed- that had ended with Rude force-feeding Reno a sedative before retreating to the bathroom to deal with a split lip and shallow, bloody cuts from Reno's nails. When faced with partial immobility, Reno had used the weapon most easily available to him: his very sharp, very strong nails. And he had used them to best advantage.

In addition to the emotional mess, Reno's cough had not gotten any better and he had vomited on several occasions.

It was late when Reno crawled into Rude's bed on the second night. He had gone to sleep in his own bed, furious with Rude for some offense Rude hadn't even bothered to ask about. As long as he ate and drank and took his medication, there was nothing to worry about.

"Rude?"

"Mmph."

"Hey, wake up."

Rude groaned and tried to roll over, but Reno's weight on his chest made that difficult. He almost wished he hadn't healed the redhead's ribs; they would have kept him a lot less mobile.

"_What_?"

"What did Ackinson do to me?"

"Huh?"

"That shot he gave me. He didn' say what it was, but I feel like shit. What did he do?"

"Antiviral," Rude yawned, not at all surprised that Reno was completely aware for a bit. His history with drugs made it a fairly common thing for him to be able to break through a drugged haze when he wanted to, provided he wasn't in too deep. "A strong one. Supposed to take care of whatever you've got in three days. Which is why you feel like shit, because that's not natural."

"Oh."

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

"What, you aren't gonna stay up and make me feel better?"

"If you can ask me that, you don't need to be taken care of."

"I got one problem only you can help me with."

"Mmm?"

"'m _horny_, Rude." Reno slipped slowly off of Rude and onto his back, lying with long legs spread across the blankets. He was naked, and Rude wondered just where his clothes had gotten to. "Fuck me."

"You're out of your mind," Rude said firmly. He sat up long enough to push Reno's legs closed, then lay back down. "No."

"But I waaaaaaaaant you," Reno purred. He spread his legs again. "Don't you want me, baby?"

"When you're healed, I'll make it up to you. But I'm not risking hurting you or dealing with you deciding in the middle that you don't want me anymore. You'll scream rape if you lose your mind while I'm touching you."

"I would not!"

"Reno, you had me killing imaginary snakes. You saw some ex-girlfriend of yours that I've never met lying on my bed. You have done some weird, irrational shit in the last day and a half and I'm not going to push my luck."

Reno made a rude noise and crawled beneath the sheets. "Hold me?" he asked quietly.

"You're not gonna jerk off if I do, are you?"

"'m cold. Just wanna be held."

Rude sighed and reached over, drawing Reno close to his side. Reno squeaked and snuggled up to him, kissing his throat over sore scratches from their brief fight. "When do I get out of these casts?"

"When your bones knit. Go to sleep."

"'m too awake. How long, you think?"

"I dunno. Couple of weeks. Most of the damage was just fractures. Close your eyes and _try_, okay? You need the rest."

"I'm not _tired_."

Rude grunted and closed his eyes, determined to ignore Reno until the redhead grew bored and went to sleep. He lasted for perhaps five minutes, before Reno started poking him in the ribs.

"Rude. Hey. Hey, Rude. Wake up."

There was nothing for it. He grunted again and opened one eye.

"Rude. Rude, it's important."

"_What_?"

"I'm gonna puke."

Reno made good on the threat, and he lost his hold on his sanity again shortly afterwards, giggling madly at the reflection of street lamp light on Rude's bare scalp. Rude sighed and let him laugh until he fell asleep again, and then he laid back down to wait for Reno to wake again.

/-

Early in the afternoon on the third day, Rude left Reno alone for a quick run to the Wutain grocery on the corner to pick up a few things that he couldn't get in his regular delivery from one of the larger markets in Midgar.

When he returned, Reno was lying on the couch, gasping shallowly and running with sweat. Pajamas and the blanket he'd been covered with were wet with it, his hair matted down dark and damp.

Rude dumped everything on the kitchen counter, scooped Reno up, and whisked him into the bathroom. Reno whimpered and tried to push himself away from Rude while he ran a bath, cool but not cold, and stripped Reno's pajamas off. Getting his casts wrapped up in plastic wrap and tape was a bit of a trial, but finally, he lowered Reno into the water.

Reno began to cry and try to clumsily haul himself out of the water at once. Rude gritted his teeth and gently pushed the redhead back in, which earned him pathetic whimpering and Reno asking why Rude hated him.

"I don't," Rude promised, pouring water over Reno's head with carefully cupped hands. "But we need to get your fever down. Come on, it's alright. You're going to feel better soon."

He wound up singing to Reno, songs he had heard recently, half-remembered snatches of old lullabies, tunes from movies he liked…anything, all strung together and sung in a gentle baritone until Reno sighed and leaned against him and fell asleep.

/

It was a long day. Reno's fever rose to 104, and the only reason Rude didn't whisk him away to a hospital immediately was the knowledge that thanks to the amount of Mako in his body, Reno's natural temperature was just high enough to make a 104 degree fever barely within the range of safety. Rude kept busy trying to keep it from getting any higher, and to keep Reno as comfortable as he could. He fed the redhead ice chips and bits of toast and tiny pieces of banana, which Reno often tongued and then let fall from his mouth. He changed his clothes and sheets again and again, doing what he could to avoid the possibility of a chill.

Midnight had come and gone when Reno finally broke out in a drenching sweat and fell sound asleep with a sigh. Rude groaned with relief and stripped his friend and the bed down one last time, tucked him in, and fell into an exhausted sleep himself.

/-

Ackinson's examination the following evening was promising. While Reno was tired, sore, and cranky, his flu was gone and his injuries were healing faster now that there was no infection or virus to slow the process down- a process vastly accelerated by the Mako in his bloodstream.

/-

By the end of the next week, Reno was out of his leg cast and the one on his arm had been reduced to just his arm instead of immobilizing his arm and shoulder. His bandages were gone, stitches removed, and he no longer needed help getting out of bed or bathing himself.

He proved it was time to send him home by crawling into Rude's bed and waking him up by grinding eagerly against him, and rude felt confident enough in Reno's condition to roll the redhead over and give him what he wanted.

/

A month and a half passed before Reno was cleared for work. No one but Tseng was aware of this clearance, so it was quite a surprise when Reno slouched into the office an hour late on a Monday morning, carrying coffee and doughnuts and grinning lazily like nothing had happened.

"Guess who's baaaaaaack," he caroled, handing coffee out and dropping the pastry box on the table.

"Reno!" Elena shot out of her cubicle and tackled Reno, hugging him tightly.

"Hey, Squirt. Gimme a kiss."

"Jerk," she giggled, and kissed his cheek, clinging to Reno's side even as he intercepted Rude on his way to the doughnuts and hugged him too, so Elena was sandwiched between them. Tseng received a wet, noisy kiss on the mouth, which resulted in Tseng retreating to his desk with the air of a cat whose tail has been stepped in and Reno laughing like a maniac.

"Don't do anything stupid like that ever again," Elena whispered, still hanging onto Reno like some kind of parasite.

"No promises."

"_Reno_."

"No promises," he repeated, flicking the tip of her nose. "But I'll try, yeah?"

"Fiiiiiiine."

"'s the best I can do. Ain't that right, Rude?"

Rude grunted, and Reno grinned. "He agrees with me."


End file.
